


Knee Deep in Danes

by cofax



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:27:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cofax/pseuds/cofax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Stargate Program goes public, O'Neill and Mitchell are making the talk-show rounds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knee Deep in Danes

**Author's Note:**

> Posted for [](http://thassalia.livejournal.com/profile)[**thassalia**](http://thassalia.livejournal.com/)'s [Reunion Challenge](http://thassalia.livejournal.com/329458.html). I believe this was [](http://katie-m.livejournal.com/profile)[**katie_m**](http://katie-m.livejournal.com/)'s prompt: _Jack and Cameron, "And Fortinbras, knee deep in Danes, lived happily ever after."_

Someone perky and red-headed, maybe twelve years old, max, steers Jack into what she calls "The Green Room." It is, manifestly, not green.

It's also not empty. Inside, perched awkwardly on the artfully-arranged couches, is Colonel Cameron Mitchell.

Mitchell shoots to his feet. "Sir!"

Jack just gives him the eye. Can't take the flyboy out of some people. "Stand down, Mitchell. Did you miss the _retired_ after my name?"

"Sorry, sir. They didn't tell me you'd be here." Mitchell looks exhausted, even with the makeup the gals in the other room had layered on them both. Jack had heard, even from Minnesota, of the epic battles in the Pentagon once the IOA went public with the program. Not that Jack has been in Minnesota much; he's been in Washington, Moscow, Tokyo, Beijing, London, Paris, Mexico City, Nairobi, Tel Aviv, Rome, and Moscow again in the last five weeks. So much for being retired.

"Me neither," says Jack, and drops down to a chair in a most unmilitary manner. "So," he says, after a long moment in which Mitchell stares at his clasped hands. "How's ... the team?"

Because Jack's a cold-blooded bastard sometimes, and _his_ bed is empty, damnit.

Mitchell's eyes go a little glassy, and Jack can nearly hear the man's teeth grind before he answers. "Fine, sir. Jackson's knee-deep in Ancient translations from the Atlantis database," -- which Jack knows, because he gets email with every databurst that ranges from sarcastic to gleeful to melancholy, but mostly triumphant that Daniel got stationed to Atlantis before the program went public. "Vala's driving Colonel Sheppard mad, but the Athosians love her, and she's been surprisingly useful in working with off-planet populations. Teal'c--"

"I know about Teal'c," says Jack. Jack will never admit it, but he might miss Teal'c most of all, and not just because the guy's never been particularly chatty in email. "Terse" would be the word Jack would use to describe Teal'c's messages. The last report from Chulak was about two months ago; Teal'c is far too busy trying to reconstruct what little is left of the Jaffa Nation to worry about gossiping with the Tau'ri. Especially since it's the Tau'ri who pretty much caused the destruction of the Jaffa Nation.

Not that anyone on Earth outside the SGC seems to mind that.

Eyes flickering to the door, then his watch, Mitchell nods. He's not loving this; Jack understands completely.

"So how's Carter?" Because it's so much fun to pick at his own scabs.

Mitchell's blue gaze meets Jack's, and the man's lips compress, then stretch in an easy smile. "Just fine, General," he says, the Carolina accent broadening as he speaks. "Mom's got her settled in the guest room with her feet up and my nephews running errands. She's pissed as hell to be on bed rest, but the doc says she'll be fine, it's just a couple more weeks."

Jack's forced to admit the guy knows how to hit back. "So what are you doing here, then? Colonel?"

Mitchell's knuckles whiten around the coffee cup in his hands, but before he can nail Jack between the eyes with it--deservedly--the door to the room opens.

"Gentlemen!" chirps the redhead. "Sorry, I mean, Colonel, General--we're just two minutes from your segment, so I'm going to ask you to follow me out, okay? You'll wait in a hallway just offstage, and when Mr. Stewart announces you I'll bring you on, okay?"

Jack pushes himself to his feet, mouth going dry. This was _not_ the same thing as testifying before Congress, or even briefing the UN Security Council. He could feel the blood draining to his stomach, and was grimly satisfied to see Mitchell looking kind of pale.

In the backstage hallway, they can hear Stewart nattering on about politics and aliens. In the poor light, Mitchell looks closer to green than white. Jack leans sideways a little. "Ori priors," he mutters. "Holographic dragons."

Mitchell blinks, and after a breath, grins. "Human-form Replicators," he replies. "Apophis and Hathor and Anubis."

"Lots and lots and _lots_ of Jaffa," pronounces Jack, and then it's time, and they walk out into the glare.


End file.
